


baby if you were a fruit, you'd be a fineapple

by kekinkawaii



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grocery Store, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:15:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22724539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kekinkawaii/pseuds/kekinkawaii
Summary: Dirk glanced up, expecting a grumpy scowl or a blank, bored face, or any expression in between that meant they saw Dirk as a NPC, a sentient self-checkout, someone that wasn’t enough for effort.Instead, he saw a pair of the bluest eyes he had ever seen looking straight back at him.
Relationships: Todd Brotzman/Dirk Gently
Comments: 21
Kudos: 108
Collections: DGHDA Valentine's Mini Bang 2020





	baby if you were a fruit, you'd be a fineapple

“Good evening,” Dirk said, pleasantly, obediently, with mechanical cheer, about four dozen times a day, five days a week, very nearly every day of the year. “How are you?”

Eight times out of ten, there would be no answer. Perhaps a grunt, a mumble, a nod of acknowledgement out of the sheer requirement to be polite. Sometimes, not even. He was simply a blink of an eye, a tick of the clock, a speck in the daily lives of the mundane: easily dismissed.

If they smiled back, responded truthfully, offered any sort of evidence that they were actually listening to him instead of just going through the routine (just smile and nod), he would opt for a classic comment, a tiny, light quip: Lovely weather today, isn’t it? Hosting a party, I see. Ooh, looks like you’re baking a cake!

The prompt to respond would be received with another smile sometimes, a nod sometimes. With pointed silence came a thick atmosphere of awkwardness, and he would quickly avert, retreating in strategic defense with a customer-service smile. Debit or credit? Thank you for shopping at Foodie’s, have a great day. 

He liked to think of it as testing the waters, like dipping a toe in for the temperature. Most often than not, he would be left scalded, but occasionally—very occasionally—he would meet a match.

Like Meredith, who was retired, who came in every Wednesday morning because that was when the store was least busy, where people wouldn’t shove and mutter and complain at her speed and meticulousness of which she chose her fresh produce. Dirk knew that Meredith had a daughter who was working in Maine, that she owned a pet dog named Charlie who died a few months ago (she had dropped a bouquet of white lilies onto the check-out belt and looked at Dirk with pink-rimmed eyes), and that she liked to knit.

Or James, who was a teacher at the elementary school down the street, who was an aspiring baker hobbyist, and came in occasionally for tiny bags of flour and chocolate chips. Dirk knew that James recently perfected classic chocolate chip cookies with his second graders, that he wasn’t married but was dating a woman named Stacy whom he was utterly head-over-heels with, and that he despised the rain but went stir-crazy for snow.

He was content. The job was steady and secure, and he didn’t need a high paycheque to validate his self-worth. But sometimes, in the pitch-black silence of the graveyard shift, where the constant buzz and hum of crappy radio music wouldn’t even be bothered to be turned on by the manager, where he had nothing to do but to scan the displays of gossip magazines (the explosion of hearts and roses and cupcake bouquets in vibrant pinks and purples; Valentine’s Day was coming up) and bear the relentless drone of the industrial lights, he would think of James and Stacy and feel just a little bit lonely.

-+-+-+-

“Good evening,” Dirk said pleasantly, obediently, with mechanical cheer. “How are you?”

When there was no response, Dirk glanced up, expecting a grumpy scowl or a blank, bored face, or any expression in between that meant they saw Dirk as a NPC, a sentient self-checkout, someone that wasn’t enough for effort.

Instead, he saw a pair of the bluest eyes he had ever seen looking straight back at him.

The rest of his features came into focus: a stubbly, square jaw, a straight nose, messy brown hair. He was still staring.

Dirk’s eyebrows came together. He wondered briefly if he had forgotten to shave a spot on his chin, or if he had a crumb of the blueberry muffin he had from breakfast still on his face.

“Good!” the man suddenly blurted, appearing to notice that Dirk was waiting for a reaction. “I’m doing well, thanks for asking.” He shrugged. “Could be better, but, y’know. Nothing special. I’m, uh. Adequate.”

Dirk was confused for a second—this wasn’t a reaction he’d ever received before. He grabbed the first item off the belt—a box of store-brand cornflakes—and began to scan.

“Adequacy is underrated,” he suggested, experimentally treading just the slightest deeper. “Sometimes it’s nice to just get through the day.”

The man seemed taken aback. He smiled just the tiniest bit and nodded in response, averting his eyes.

Dirk resigned himself to scanning the rest of the groceries in silence. Once he was done, he was just about to send him that mild, see-you-soon, customer-service specialized smile, when the man surprised Dirk again by speaking.

“I lied,” he said, abruptly, throwing Dirk off his rhythm.

“What?” Dirk said, unthinkingly.

The man seemed suddenly hesitant; jittery.

“I said today was adequate,” he said. “But I lied.” He looked at Dirk and smiled. “It was better than adequate.”

Dirk tilted his head just a fraction, slowly. He blinked. He gave the man a slight, sweet smile in reply.

“That’s good to hear,” he said. “In that case, I hope the rest of your day continues to be better than adequate.”

“Thanks—Dirk,” the man said, with a glance at his nametag.

“No problem,” Dirk said easily. “Thanks for shopping at Foodie’s, we hope to see you again soon.”

-+-+-+-

“Good evening,” Dirk said, and then looked up at the customer and felt a little smile rise on his face without his permission.

“Hello again,” he said, endeavouring to stray from his usual speech. “Another better-than-adequate day?”

“Mm,” the man hummed, and shrugged. “It was alright.” He gave Dirk a pointed grin. “Better, now.”

“That’s good,” Dirk said, curious at his just-crooked-from-normal responses but knowing better than to tread over that shimmering, fine line of professionality—yes, there was a grocery store etiquette, and he knew it inside and out.

He scanned the item on the belt. _5 Ways to Woo your Crush this Valentine’s Day!_ the header of the magazine read in a bouncy, bubbly font.

He opened his mouth to comment on it, to say something—but then closed it again. It wasn’t his business.

“Have a nice day,” he said.

“Thanks, Dirk,” the man said. “You too.”

It hit him, when he was leaving, sliding doors shutting behind him, that he didn’t know his name.

It shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did—there was no way he could ask without coming off as potentially creepy or nosy and prying and—well. And there were plenty of people he saw frequently, recognized with a little tug in his memory (like that one baseball cap-wearing teen who always bought an Arizona green tea and a pack of Twizzlers), and he never knew their names, and he was fine with that.

He ignored the part of his mind that inquired pointedly if this strange urge was due to the fact that the man was just the slightest—or, rather—okay, maybe _very—_ attractive.

He sighed, shoved his thoughts away, and turned to the next customer in line.

-+-+-+-

The man was wearing a dark blue hoodie that brought out his eyes. His hair was messy in a way that seemed, oxymoronically, deliberately casual. He was buying a bouquet of blood-red roses. Dirk could feel himself staring and he bit his tongue and forced his eyes down to the coin box, pressing buttons with a long-learned experience.

“How was your day?” he asked, itching to fill the silence. 

The man waited until Dirk looked up to meet his eyes, and then dashed him a sideways grin, unintentionally charming. “It was fantastic,” he said.

“That’s different,” Dirk said without thinking.

“A _better_ different,” the man said, still with that smile. Dirk felt something tumble in his chest alarmingly.

“That’ll be $9.41, please,” he said, reeling and scrabbling for cover.

When Dirk handed the flowers to him along with the change from a fifty-dollar bill, the man’s fingers curled and traced their way down the back of Dirk’s hands. Dirk bit down harder on his tongue and rearranged his features into his tried-and-true smile.

“Have a fantastic day,” he couldn’t help but say.

“Oh, I will,” the man said, eyes sparkling. He practically skipped out the sliding doors.

Dirk watched him leave, and then leaned against the counter with his eyes closed for a moment, thinking, _Shit._

He had gone and caught feelings for a guy whom he didn’t even have a chance with (read: NPC, sentient self-checkout) _before_ it was even revealed that he was already taken.

-+-+-+-

“Good afternoon,” Dirk said, and then looked up and said, “Oh,” before he could stop himself.

The man looked at Dirk with a sun-bright beam. “Hi again,” he said. “How are you?”

Dirk mentally tripped. “That’s my line,” he said, flailing for a weak comeback.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t say it,” the man said smoothly. “How are you?” 

“I’m alright,” Dirk said, flummoxed and flustered, and reserved himself to scanning the singular item on the bar: a bottle of expensive-looking wine.

 _Did you forget this from before? Date night, is it?_ he wanted to ask; felt it whispering on the tip of his tongue as he punched in the price on the register.

He kept quiet, read out the number, hid a shiver when their hands touched (again), and watched him leave with a sigh rising in his throat and the words gulped down and lying uncomfortably in his chest.

None of his business.

-+-+-+-

“You’re back,” Dirk said. There was a slab of thick-cut New York steak, lonely and singular on the belt.

“I am,” the man said. Dirk watched his smile, bright and beautiful, helplessly.

“Have a good night,” he said, handing him the cut in a paper-wrapped bag.

“You too, Dirk.”

-+-+-+-

There was absolutely nothing on the check-out belt.

The man stood, hands in his pockets, looking at Dirk with an expression equally apprehensive and eager.

Dirk blinked at him. “Did you forget something?” he asked, feeling more words, prying and deathly-curious, vibrating against his mouth, just aching to spill out.

The man took in a breath and pursed his lips. “Actually, I did,” he said. “Dirk, will you have dinner with me?”

Dirk said, “Nnh.”

The man looked taken aback, and a flush rose on his face. “Please don’t feel pressured,” he said. “I’m not—I just think you’re really cute and I’d love to know you better and I kept coming back to ask you out but I kept losing my nerve.”

“Oh,” Dirk breathed.

The man smiled ruefully. “Yeah,” he said. He shifted on his feet and took his hands out of his pockets, fingers tangling together in a nervous shuffle-waltz. “I was actually gonna buy a bag of dates and ask you out that way, but that was too cheesy, even for me.” He winced. “Pun not intended.”

Dirk wondered fleetingly if he was suffering from some sort of candy-hearts-induced hallucination. “I don’t even know your name,” he said.

“Todd,” the man said immediately. “Todd Brotzman.”

“Todd Brotzman,” Dirk repeated. It had a lovely ring to it. “I’m Dirk Gently. I would love to have dinner with you.”

Todd looked stunned for a second before breaking into a smile that nearly floored him right then and there. “When do you get off work?”

“Fifteen minutes,” Dirk said.

“Great. I’ll pick you up here.”

It was Friday night. There was a huge line of angry customers building up in his lane. Dirk found that he didn’t particularly care. “What are we having?” he asked.

Todd’s smile turned slightly askew. “Steak.”

“With wine?” Dirk said.

“You betcha. And a bouquet of roses right in the middle of the table.”

“Looking forward to it,” Dirk said, and then, feeling giddy, “Thank you for shopping at Foodie’s. Have a wonderful day.”

“More than adequate,” Todd said, and then put his hands on the counter and stood up on his tiptoes and leaned in and kissed Dirk on the corner of his mouth. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Dirk stared at the closing, then closed, sliding doors, for much longer than what his manager would consider as appropriate, before turning to his next customer with a bright, sunny, million-watt smile.

“Good evening,” he said.

**Author's Note:**

> My second minibang! Endless thanks to don't-offend-the-bees for organizing such a wonderful challenge, and to my lovely artist marizetta for creating such a phenomenal piece of art to go along with my little oneshot, linked [here](https://marizetta.tumblr.com/post/190833653990/my-illustration-to-a-lovely-work-by)! I hope you enjoyed this fluffy 'lil thing I wrote up: if you did, please leave a comment—it would make my day!
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day to all of you amazing people <3


End file.
